


Fake Saints: Full Throttle

by wellman (slowmobanana)



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Action, Comedy, GTA!AU, Gen, To add as characters appear
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-19
Updated: 2019-05-19
Packaged: 2020-03-08 01:25:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18885295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slowmobanana/pseuds/wellman
Summary: It has been three years since the Fake AH Crew officially disbanded and went their separate ways. Geoff and Gavin decide to pull their last and greatest Con of them all; to rob their former teammate, Ryan Haywood, now a feared and very rich Gang leader known as the Mad King of the Vagabonds. However, when things don’t go as planned, an old, powerful enemy is unleashed and the Fake AH Crew must band together one last time to find and defeat them once and for all. Can the team put their differences aside and rise? Or will history repeat itself and tear them apart once again?





	Fake Saints: Full Throttle

**Author's Note:**

> Did you know it's been a million years since I wrote a fanfiction? Well, I'm back.

_ Plan G, 11 PM in a Fancy Ballroom on a Tuesday Night _

“Wow, so, you’re really British?”

Gavin tried not to glance at Geoff across the table, who was tilting his fake champagne glass at the President of the LSAD and laughing so loud, he couldn’t possibly be nervous at all. “Yeah, I’m really British.”

She, the daughter of the FreshTech Corporations CEO, rested her chin in her hand and leaned all the way in. He leaned all the way back. “What was it like living in Britain? Is it nice?”

“Pretty rainy,” he said. “Yeah, it’s nice. Lots more pubs there.”

“I’ve been to Scotland, is it anything like that?”

Gavin put his champagne glass to his lips. “Sure.”

“I love Scotland. There were, like, so many sheep.” He kept drinking his drink because surely he’d be grinning if he wasn’t. He steeled himself. He put the drink down. “Oi, top of the mornin’ to ya!” she tried and he snorted out the champagne. “What?”

“Nice, uh, accent,” he answered quickly, wiping off his face. “You learn that from the locals?”

“Yup! Well, my tour guide, at least. He was super nice.”

Gavin’s eyes flickered to an ornate clock on the wall as it struck eleven, and then at where Geoff used to be standing but not anymore. “Excuse me, love, I have to, uh-- I’m going to get some  _ hors d'oeuvres _ .”

She nodded, not taking her eyes off him as he stood and started away. “I’ll be here!”

Gavin shook his head, slipped by a few amazingly dressed people with awkward grace, (spotted the biggest diamond he’d ever seen,) and found Geoff by the snack table with a plate full of meat and cheese appetizers. “Hey, Geoff,” he began, reaching over him to get a plate. “How’s it goin’?”

“Alcohol-free champagne tastes like ass,” he spat. “Why can’t they just serve pop like normal people?”

“Rich people and their weird etiquette.” Gavin started to load little appetizers on his plate, not really sure how much was too much at a rich party.

“How’s the daughter of FreshTech?”

“She’s dumber than a doorbell, Geoff,” he whispered. “She thought Africa was a country.”

“Welcome to the American school system.”

“What? Do rich people get  _ less _ education than bloody poor people? How do they even get rich in the first place?!”

“Because their parents were rich.” Geoff turned his back to the assortment and chewed on a small appetizer. “But that’s where they make their mistakes. Because smart people who are smart can take money from the rich people who are dumb. And, yeah, we’re the smart people and she’s the rich, dumb people. Then we’ll be rich, smart people and she’ll be a dumb, probably still rich person.”

Gavin shook his head. “Geoff, everything you just said there was dumb.”

“You’re dumb.”

“Did you get the people for the thing on Friday?”

“Sure did,”

“Did you get the art dude to give you money for it?”

“I told him it was for a sick kid’s charity cause. Gave him a sob story about how when I was a kid, I was sick and in a hospital and how much the charity helped me and my family and I wanna give back and blah, blah, blah,” Geoff’s voice went up and down as he explained his well-made story that Gavin was probably supposed to remember. “He gave me  _ way _ more than I expected. It’s a cheque, so I’m just gonna put it in the burner account.”

“He gave you a cheque? For how much?” Geoff pulled out the cheque from inside his coat pocket and Gavin couldn’t help grinning and squeaking when he saw a six digit number starting with five. “Damn, Geoff! That’s a hell of a sob story you threw together. So, you got  _ good _ people for Friday?”

Geoff laughed. “No, I hired the cheapest guys I could get. Friday’s thing will be  _ easy _ .”

 

&&&

 

_ Short Temper, 3 AM in a Taco Bell Parking Lot on a Tuesday Night _

Asedas Lane had so many broken street lights, the road was almost lit entirely by the full moon. Nearly every house had boarded windows and doors with broken locks. Yet, Michael still saw eyes peering out between the wood boards. He wrinkled his nose and turned his eyes to the dashboard.

“Fuse,” Jeremy continued. “Short  _ Fuse _ .”

Michael jolted, slamming his fist against the passenger door. “Temper! We decided on Temper! You can’t change it now, we already submitted the application!”

“But it makes so much more sense! You know! Explosives, anger,  _ fuse _ !”

Michael shook his head and relented with an amused chuckled. “Stop trying to change our name. We already decided on Short Temper. That is the name of… us.” He took a bite out of his soft taco and wiped his face with a napkin he was just holding in his hand. “Have you played the new Destiny yet?”

“Hell yeah, I have!”

Simultaneously, their burner phones dinged and they each scrambled to retrieve their phone from the Taco Bell bags. Jeremy got to his first. “Tuggey’s got another job for us,” he said. “For, uh, Friday.”

Michael pulled out his phone and read the text thoroughly. “It’s a standby,” he muttered.

“I love standbys.”

“We don’t get to do anything!”

“ _ And _ we still get paid.”

“It’s boring.”

“It’s easy money.” Jeremy stretched his arms and grinned. “Like this stakeout.”

They both looked at the building they were supposed to be watching but the only thing that changed was a new light that came on and another one that turned off. No one had left or entered. It was so boring.

“Maybe I’ll take Kat for a fancy dinner,” Jeremy chirped, mind still on the money. “Wish we made enough for diamonds. Oh, how’s that ring coming?”

“It’s coming,” Michael replied absentmindedly, now that he remembered he was supposed to be staring at the window in front of him, not beside him (where all the creepy eyes between boards stared at him). “It’s a little hard to play off where all this money is going when she’s the one who hands you your paycheque.”

“Think she has you figured out?”

“Probably.” A beat. Frustration. “This is so boring! I’m supposed to be shooting stuff!”

“Easy, Michael,” Jeremy chuckled. “Maybe we’ll get to shoot stuff in the standby.”

 

&&&

 

_ Same Voice, 12 PM at Extra Life Hospital on a Wednesday Afternoon _

Jack didn’t have to be at the hospital anymore, not since Burnie joined the team, but he felt it was part of his solemn vow to come in every day to see how things were going and if he could help out.

Formerly white walls were decorated in crayon colours and pictures of family’s drawn by little ones with artistic visions. Nurses hurried around still with their unending work but they still smiled sweetly at the children they passed.

He swung by Burnie’s office and peaked his head in through the open door. “Hey, Burnie.”

Burnie looked up from his computer and smiled. “Hey! How it’s going?”

“Oh, you know, it’s going.” Jack entered the office and stood in front of the desk. Burnie’s office was dark with rich colours and an open window with a cold, sea breeze. “I just thought I’d check in and see how things are going.”

“Smoothly, for the most part.” Burnie finished whatever sentence he was typing then turned his attention entirely to Jack. “We’re having a bit of problem with space, so Ashley suggested we expand the hospital.” Then Burnie smirked and propped his elbows on the table. “But I was thinking, why not think bigger?” Jack felt a smile tug on his lips. “Why not get another building?”

“Burnie--”

“No, I know what you’re thinking: Money. We run entirely on donations and volunteer time. But listen, we could do a fundraiser?” He opened his palms to the sky, then said quickly, “Maybe we could ask your friend for a small donation?”

Jack inhaled. “Are you talking about Ryan? Why?”

“Yeah! I mean, well, we’re just asking.” A long pause. A very long pause. Very, very long. “Or we could… not.” Jack nodded slowly. “Fundraiser it is. Well, anyways, Ryan is here to see you. He’s in your office.” Jack snapped his attention out the door even though his office wasn’t even visible from where he was standing. “So, is that a yes on the new building?”

Jack didn’t look away from the door. “Let me think about it,” he said absently. “I’ll be back in a second.”

Burnie nodded and let Jack go. The saint walked through the halls and crossed to his office where he saw Ryan through the window. He was sitting in the visitor’s chair, staring at his phone, probably playing solitaire. Jack opened the door and stepped into the office. Ryan looked up. He stood. There was a brief moment, waveringly unintense. Then mutual grins and opened arms. “Ryan, holy shit. It’s been a million years!”

“Hasn’t it? It’s been way too long!”

When they pulled from their hug, Jack patted Ryan’s shoulder and looked him up and down. “You lost weight.”

“You gained a few, but that beard is miraculous!”

“I can happily say that gaining a few pounds in the spirit of Extra Life is beyond worth it.”

“I don’t doubt it a bit.”

“Water?”

“Yes, please.”

Jack opened the cabinet in the corner where he kept water bottles and Ryan shut the door then returned to the visitor’s chair. Jack handed him a water bottle then sat at his desk. “So, what brings you all the way out to South Los Santos?”

Ryan unscrewed the top. “I wish I could say it was for a visit, after all this time,” he admitted. His shoulders dropped and he stole a second to take a swig of water. “Which it could also be -- like, hey, let’s get coffee later and catch up or something -- but, uh, also, there’s something else.” Jack gestured for him to spit it out. “I heard a rumour that someone is planning to, uh,” His eyes glanced quickly to the door as if to make sure it was closed. “Infiltrate my business.”

Jack followed Ryan’s eyes to the door, then turned back to him again. “Okay?”

“It’s Geoff and Gavin.”

“Of course it is.”

Ryan tried to clasp his hands together but instead, they tangled awkwardly around the bottle as if he forgot it was there. “I  _ really _ don’t want to have to kill them, but if I’m not smart about this -- or worse, if they’re still as stupid as we know they are -- I’m not gonna have much of a choice. Unless I want to lose my… supporters.”

“What do you want  _ me _ to do?”

“Talk them out of it, for starters. Tell them the truth if it gets them to fuck off, I don’t care, just… get them out of my hair. Geoff won’t listen to me, he hates my guts now. But he’ll listen to you.” Jack sighed. “Look, I’ll make a donation to your cause. You can open that new building. However much money it takes.”

Curious. Jack furrowed his eyebrows together. “So, obviously, it’s not the money you’re worried about.”

“No, I’ve got loads of that,” Ryan gestured his hand dismissively. “It’s my reputation. If Geoff and Gavin steal from me and everyone finds out -- which they  _ will _ because it’s Geoff and Gavin -- I will have to kill them. I have to send a message. No one crosses the Mad King of Vagabonds, not even old friends.”

“Is that your new name now?”

Ryan grinned. “Cool, right? My following came up with that.”

Jack leaned back, stared at the ceiling, and inhaled. A long pause, he looked back down. “Alright, what’s really going on?”

The king faltered. “What? No. Nothing is going on.”

“You can’t fool me, Ryan.”

“No, I can’t intimidate you into not asking questions like before.” He jerked the water bottle at Jack like it was a knife. “I’ll fucking cut you!” No reaction. “See? You know me too well. Please don’t ask questions and just keep Geoff and Gavin from making me kill them. ‘Cause you know I’ll definitely kill them if I have to.”

Jack drew a big, long sigh then dropped his shoulders. “Fine. I’ll call Geoff and get him to think about it. But it’ll be hard without any real reason to stop other than just because you asked nicely.”

“I trust you can figure it out. You were always the smart one, Jack.” Jack sort of frowned. Ryan stood up. “Next time we meet, it’ll be for diet coke and a beer,” he promised. “I’ll send that donation money as soon as I can.”

He was halfway out the door and Jack said, “See ya later.”

“See ya.”

He shut the door behind him and Jack had a bad feeling about this.


End file.
